GIFT  OF 


JTTLE  RHYMES 

of 

HILDHOOD 


Annie  Mcllhany  Flynt 


X  ^ 


o  nr?  daugKters 
Virginia  and  Ruin 
and  all  flxeir  little  friends 
&iis  book  is  lovingly  dedicated 


THE  PALM  TREE 

Mother,  the  beautiful  Palm  Tree 

Waved  its  arms  and  spoke  to  me. 

It  waved  its  arms  and  bowed  its  head, 

And  this  is  what  the  Palm  Tree  said : 

Under  my  arms  is  a  nice  cool  shade, 

Where  you  can  bring  your  bucket  and  spade 

And  rest,  when  the  morning's  play  is  done 

While  the  beach  is  hot  with  the  noonday  sun. 

Here  you  can  rest  and  eat  your  lunch, 

You  and  all  your  little  bunch; 

Or  you  can  lie  and  take  a  nap, 

It's  just  as  nice  as  mother's  lap; 

This  is  what  the  Palm  Tree  said 

When  it  waved  its  arms  and  bowed  its  head. 


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MY  BEAUTIFUL  DOLL 

A  little  girl  came  to  see  me, 
A  girl  I  did  not  know. 
And  Oh!     she  was  so  cruel 
To  treat  my  poor  doll  so ! 

My  beautiful  doll,  I  call  her. 
Her  eyes  are  lovely  blue. 
Her  curly  locks  are  golden, 
I  love  her,  Oh!  so  true! 

This  girl  who  came  to  see  me, 
She  took  my  baby  out 
And  left  her  on  the  drive  way 
Beneath  the  water  spout. 

And  Oh!     That  night  the  rain  came, 
It  poured,  and  poured  all  night, 
And  when  I  went  next  morning 
To  find  the  little  mite, 


My  heart  was  nearly  broken. 
She  was  all  wet  and  cold. 
I  took  her  to  my  mother; 
My  mother  did  not  scold. 

She  told  me  not  to  worry, 
I  did  not  need  to  cry, 
For  she  could  make  my  baby 
Nice  and  warm  and  dry. 

And  now  she's  just  as  pretty, 
Her  color  did  not  fade, 
For  she's  the  finest  dolly 
That  ever  has  been  made. 

My  pretty  little  Goldenlocks! 
I  never  will  again 
Let  strangers  take  my  baby 
And  leave  her  in  the  rain. 


AT  NIGHT 

Last  night  when  all  the  children 
Were  sound  asleep  in  bed, 
And  I  awake  and  thinking 
Of  all  I'd  done  and  said; 

I  heard  the  crickets  talking, 
This  they  seemed  to  say: 
"Be  good,  be  good  my  children, 
Be  good  through  all  the  day." 

I  heard  the  ocean  roaring 
A  deep  and  solemn  song: 
"Be  careful,  little  children, 
And  never  do  a  wrong." 

I  saw  the  stars  all  shining 
So  beautiful  and  bright, 
They  seemed  to  softly  whisper: 
"Thou  Lord,  art  ever  right." 

And  so  I  prayed  the  Father, 
In  gratitude  and  love, 
To  guide  all  little  children 
Unto  Himself  above. 


THE  SEA  GULL 

Pretty  Sea  Gull, 
Do  you  know? 
I  would  like  to  be 
Just  a  pretty  Sea  Gull 
Floating  on  the  sea; 

Rocking  gently 

To  and  fro, 

Rising  with  the  spray, 

Sailing  o'er  the  ocean 

Oh!    so  far  away! 

Pretty  Sea  Gull, 
Come  to  me, 
Tell  me,  is  it  true, 
You  are  never  fearful 
Of  the  water  blue? 

In  the  night  time, 

Is  it  cold? 

Or  do  you  fly  away 

To  your  little  nestlings? 

Pretty  Sea  Gull,  say! 


VIRGINIA'S  READING 

"I'm  to  have  a  reading,  mothah, 
Next  Sunday's  Eastah  day. 
Miss  Agnes  said  to  ask  you 
And  you'd  know  what  to  say." 

"You  may  tell  Miss  Agnes,  darling, 
I'll  find  you  one  somewhere, 
When  Easter  morning  comes  around 
Virginia  will  be  there." 

The  church  was  filled  with  people 
On  lovely  Easter  day, 
To  hear  the  little  children 
Read  and  sing  and  pray. 

Virginia  tossed  her  golden  curls 
And  proudly  took  her  stand. 
This  the  reading  that  she  gave, 
A  lily  in  her  hand: 

"Considah  the  lilies  of  the  field, 
They  toil  not  neithah  do  they  spin; 
Yet  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
Was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these." 

A  moment  thus,  the  flower  upheld, 

Not  purer  than  her  baby  face, 

A  bow,  and  then  sedately 

She  marched  back  to  her  place. 

A  hush,  and  then  a  ripple  through  the  room, 
And  mother  stopped  a  tear, 
While  father  whispered  proudly: 
"That  was  great,  my  dear." 


RUTH 

"I  wouldn't  give  a  million  dollars  to  sell  my  mother," 

Said  little  Ruth  last  night, 

When  I  tucked  the  covers  'round  her 

And  made  them  snug  and  tight. 

I  wouldn't  take  a  million  dollars, 
In  gold  and  jewels  rare, 
To  sell  my  little  daughter, 
My  little  Ruth  so  fair. 

She's  so  petit  and  dainty 
So  loving  and  so  true, 
I  couldn't  sell  my  darling, 
My  little  Ruth,  could  you? 


PUSSY  WILLOWS 

(From  an  Old  Story) 

Six  little  kittens,  soft  and  gray, 
Lay  asleep  on  the  porch  one  day. 
The  farmer,  coming  in  to  tea 
And  seeing  them,   said  angrily: 

We  have  no  use  for  all  these  cats, 
Old  Tom  can  take  care  of  the  rats. 
I  think  I'll  throw  them  in  the  pond — 
Of  kittens  I  was  never  fond. 

No  little  girl  with  pleading  cries, 

No  little  boy  with  anxious  eyes, 

Was  standing  by  to  take  their  part 

And  change  the  farmer's  hardened  heart. 

Only  the  farmer's  wife,  who  said: 

"Perhaps    twere  better  that  they  were  dead." 

So  he  took  a  sack  and  tied  it  tight 

And  threw  them  into  the  pond  that  night. 

But  the  sack  was  old,  and  the  heavy  stone 
Went  to  the  bottom  all  alone, 
While  the  half-drowned  kittens  clambered  out 
And  wandered  tremblingly  about. 

Now  a  willow  tree  was  growing  near, 
And  the  poor,  wet  kitties,  filled  with  fear, 
Climbed  upon  a  leafy  limb 
And  nestled  in  the  shadow  dim. 


There  upon  the  kind  old  tree 
They  romped  and  frolicked  merrily. 
All  the  summer,   night  and  day 
They  staid,  nor  cared  to  go  away. 

But  when  the  cooler  weather  came 
The  leaves  turned  red  with  Autumn's  flame, 
Then  fluttered  softly  to  the  ground 
Where  on  a  Winter  home  they  found. 

The  kittens,  also  tired  of  play, 
Drifted,   one  by  one,  away 
To  find  a  home  with  warmth  and  light 
And  food,  and  shelter,  from  the  night. 

Then  lonely  grew  the  poor  old  tree 
And  moaned  and  sighed  so  mournfully 
All  the  dreary  Winter  long, 
That  Mother  Nature  heard  her  song. 

And  when  the  Spring  came  with  the  flowers, 
There  in  place  of  fresh,  green  bowers, 
Were  little  fluffy  balls  of  gray, 
Like  the  kitties,  gone  away. 

The  old  tree  sighed  with  full  content 
While  the  graceful  limbs  were  gently  bent, 
To  show  to  all  who  came  to  see 
The  Pussy  Willows  on  the  tree. 


THE  CLOCKS 

In  the  dark  and  silent  night  time, 
I  hear  the  clocks  all  strike; 
So  strange  it  is  to  hear  them, 
They  do  not  strike  alike. 

The  town  clock  sounds  so  solemn, 
As  though  it  seems  to  say: 
"I  see  the  people  going 
And  coming,  day  by  day. 

"I  hear  the  ceaseless  beating 
Of  the  city's  mighty  heart, 
In  all  her  joy  and  sorrow 
'Tis  I  who  have  a  part." 

The  clock  upon  the  stairway 
Has  a  kind  and  home-like  sound. 
It  says:     "When  you  are  resting 
In  peaceful  slumber  bound, 

"I  watch  and  guard  the  household, 
When  morning  comes  apace, 
I  hold  my  friendly  hands  to  you 
And  show  my  cheerful  face." 

From  out  my  mother's  bedroom 
I  hear  a  gentle  chime: 
"Dear  child  lie  still  and  slumber, 
Morning  comes  in  time." 

But  hark!     A  saucy  cuckoo  clock 
Cries  out:      "Cuckoo!     Cuckoo! 
I  dare  you  now  to  go  to  sleep; 
Cuckoo!     Cuckoo!     Cuckoo!" 


THE  FIREMEN 

Out  in  front  of  our  house,  most  every  day, 
The  firemen  bring  their  things  and  play. 
They  play  at  fire  and  have  more  fun  I 
They  ring  the  bell,  and  jump  and  run. 
They  pour  the  water  in  the  street 
And  we  wade  in  it  with  our  bare  feet. 

The  other  day  when  they  were  there 
And  we  were  standing  'round  to  stare, 
The  fire  bell  rang,  the  whistle  blew, 
And  up  the  street  they  fairly  flew, 
Scattering  children  left  and  right 
'Round  the  corner  and  out  of  sight. 

The  people  all  came  out  to  see 
Where  on  earth  the  fire  might  be. 
They  stood  around  and  talked  a  while, 
Then  went  in  with  nod  and  smile. 
Where  the  fire  was,  we  don't  know, 
They  didn't  give  us  time  to  go. 


CHARLIE'S  DREAM 

"Charlie!    Charlie!    Get  up,   dear! 
The  night  is  gone  and  morning's  here. 
There  are  fires  to  make  and  cows  to  feed, 
And  father;  soon  your  help  will  need." 

That  s  my  mother's  morning  song, 
And  I  hear  it  all  night  long. 
If  my  dreams  be  sweet  or  mild, 
Still  I  hear  her  call  her  child. 

"Charlie!    Charlie!    Get  up,  dear! 
The  night  is  gone  and  morning's  here. 
There  are  fires  to  make  and  cows  to  feed, 
And  father  soon  your  help  will  need." 

Last  night  the  strangest  thing  I  dreamed, 
I  was  underneath  the  sea,  it  seemed. 
I  walked  through  corals,  rich  and  rare 
And  saw  the  seaweed  growing  fair. 

A  little  mermaid  held  my  hand, 
And  led  me  through  the  shining  sand 
To  show  me  where  the  mermen  keep 
The  priceless  treasures  of  the  deep. 


Tired  at  last,  I  sat  me  down 
And  all  the  fishes  gathered  round; 
They  formed  themselves  in  one  great  ring 
And  this  old  song  began  to  sing : 

"Charlie!    Charlie!    Get  up,  dear! 
The  night  is  gone  and  morning's  here. 
There  are  fires  to  make  and  cows  to  feed, 
And  father  soon  your  help  will  need.'* 

I  rubbed  and  rubbed  my  sleepy  eyes 
And  saw  there  to  my  surprise, 
No  fishes,  either  great  or  small, 
No  corals  rare  or  sand  at  all. 

There  was  no  seaweed,   and  no  sea; 
There  were  no  treasures  there  for  me. 
No  mermaid  seated  by  my  side, 
But  only  mother  there,  who  cried: 

"Charlie!    Charlie!    Get  up,  dear! 
The  night  is  gone  and  morning's  here. 
There  are  fires  to  make  and  cows  to  feed, 
And  father  soon  your  help  will  need." 


PLAYING  BEAR 

Our  home  is  on  the  table, 
The  bear's  den  on  the  floor, 
And  over  in  the  corner 
Is  the  candy  woman's  store. 

Who  will  get  the  candy? 

"I  will,  give  me  the  dime. 

Oh,  Dear!     The  bear  is  watching, 

I  can't  go  by  this  time." 

"Now  wait,   I  think  he's  sleeping, 
Hush,   'til  I  reach  the  door; 
Now  run!     The  old  bear's  coming, 
Just  hear  that  dreadful  roar!" 

"Oh,  help!      He's  right  behind  me! 
Tick  Lock,  I'm  safe  at  last." 
It's  just  as  real  as  can  be 
Until  the  danger's  past. 


THE  SEA  OF  FORTUNE 

Whenever  I  ask  Aunt  Maidie, 
To  "give  me  a  nickle,  please," 
She  says,  "Just  wait  little  Jimmie, 
'Til  my  ship  sails  over  the  seas." 

A  bicycle,  too,  and  a  pony, 
Aunt  Maidie  will  give  to  me, 
With  ever  so  many  treasures, 
When  her  ship  sails  over  the  sea. 

I  asked  Aunt  Maidie  to  tell  me 

What  sea  her  ship  sailed  on, 

And  she  said:    '    'Tis  the  Sea  of  Fortune 

With  millions  of  ships  thereon." 

So  I  went  and  got  my  atlas 
And  searched  it  through  and  through, 
But  never  a  "Sea  of  Fortune" 
Could  I  find  mid  the  waters  blue. 


A  FAIRY  TALE 

Dear  little  Marjorie  is  weeping  today 

Because  no  little  playmate  comes  with  her  to  play. 

Weeping,  she  opens  her  pretty  blue  eyes 

And  sees,  standing  by  her,  with  wondering  surprise, 

An  airplane  all  golden,  with  silvery  wings, 

The  pilot,  a  fairy  who  tunefully  sings: 

"Come,  little  Marjorie,  come  fly  with  me. 

I  will  carry  you  over  the  billowy  sea; 

Over  the  sea  to  fair  Baby  land 

Where  you  shall  walk  with  me  and  choose  from  the  band 

A  wee  little  sister  to  be  all  your  own 

And  never  again  shall  you  weep  here  alone." 

Then  the  dimples  come  back  to  sweet  Marjorie's  face 

She  daintily  steps  to  the  passenger's  place, 

Leans  back  on  the  cushions  of  silk-covered  down 

And  soon  is  away  over  city  and  town. 

They  fly  like  the  wind  through  the  violet  skies, 

The  birds  flutter  by  them  with  wondering  cries. 

Beyond  the  dim  milky  way,  ever  so  far, 

The  pale  moon,  like  a  cradle,  holds  one  tiny  star. 


At  last,  at  the  sound  of  a  soft  lullaby, 
They  gently  descend  from  out  the  blue  sky. 
Before  a  great  portal  of  Mother  of  Pearl 
The  airplane  alights  with  the  fairy  and  girl. 
It  is  Babyland,  peopled  with  babies  so  dear, 
Babies  who  never  knew  hunger  or  fear; 
Golden  haired  babies  with  eyes  of  deep  blue, 
Babies  with  hair  of  dark  ringlets,  too. 
"Oh!    What  shall  I  do?"   sweet  Marjorie  cries, 
As  one  tiny  toddler  looks  up  in  her  eyes. 
"May  I  take  this  wee  darling  my  sister  to  be? 
Dear  little  baby  could  you  always  love  me?." 
The  little  one  dimples  and  whispers  quite  low: 
"I  love  oo,  I  love  oo,  I  do  love  oo  so.' 
The  fairy  then  lifting  the  soft  little  form 
Tenderly  lays  it  in  Marjorie's  arm. 
Now,  homeward  they  speed,  and  never  again 
Shall  Marjorie  weep  and  suffer  the  pain 
Of  loneliness  sad,  for  the  baby  will  stay 
And  play  with  and  love  her  forever  and  aye. 


THE  TOILERS 

Oh!    How  busy,  busy,  busy, 
These  little  people  be! 
They  seem  to  be  as  busy 
As  the  ever  busy  sea. 

Building   mountains   lofty, 
With  wondrous  tunnels  through, 
With  rivers  running  all  around, 
Filled  with  water,  too. 

Digging  caverns  wide  and  deep 
In  the  golden  sand, 
Hunting  crabs  and  pretty  shells, 
Such  a  happy  band. 

It  doesn't  seem  to  matter 
That  through  the  pleasant  night, 
While  they  are  busy  sleeping 
With  all  their  main  and  might. 

The  busy  sea  is  working, 
Making  all  for  naught 
The  lovely  mounds  and  cities 
So  faithfully  wrought. 

They'll  work  just  as  hard  tomorrow 
As  they  have  done  today, 
These  busy  little  people, 
It  is  their  busy  way. 


DOWN  BY  THE  SEA 

Down  by  the  sea, 

Just  you  and  me 

And  Ruth  and  Betty  Ann, 

Will  dig  a  cave 

For  a  great  sea  wave 

To  drown  the  old  sand  man. 

Every  day 

At  the  end  of  play 

He  makes  us  go  to  bed. 

That  is  why 

We  think  we'll  try 

If  we  can  get  ahead. 

So  here  by  the  sea, 

Just  you  and  me 

And  Ruth  and  Betty  Ann, 

Will  dig  a  cave 

For  a  great  sea  wave 

To  drown  the  old  sand  man. 


MOCCASIN  FALLS 

Dear  chum  of  girlhood's  golden  days, 
I've  a  picture,  clearly  limned 
Upon  my  mind  that  all  the  years 
Of  changes  have  not  dimmed. 

'Tis  Indian  Summer,  and  -we  two 
Have  wandered,  arm  in  arm, 
Through  the  village,  down  the  hill, 
In  sight  of  Hy man's  farm. 

By  Aunt  Manila's  cabin  old, 
Where  the  dogs  lie  in  the  sun, 
And  the  water  cart  stands  idle, 
For  Uncle  Jim  is  gone. 

Down  Bosque  creek  we've  wandered, 
Past  the  grape-vine  swing. 
Ah!    I  was  little  Annie  then 
And  you  were  Emma  King. 


We  ve  stopped  before  a  little  pool, 
Where  the  water  stayed  to  play, 
Before  it  traveled  on  again 
To  the  ocean  far  away. 


Moccasin  Falls,  we  called 
Harry  Hyman  named  it  so. 
You  remember  Harry,  do  you? 
A  grown  man,  long  ago. 

Shoes  and  stockings  laid  aside, 
You've  stepped  into  the  pool, 
One  bare  white  foot  uplifted 
To  feel  the  ripple  cool. 

Your  blue  print  dress,  your  red  gold  hair, 
Your  fair,  sweet  face  and  eyes  of  brown, 
Your  rounded  form  of  girlish  grace, 
Is  the  picture  years  can  never  drown. 

Those  girlhood  days  come  back  to  me, 
And  I  love  to  think  and  sing 
Of  the  days  when  I  was  Annie 
And  you  were  Emma  King. 


MR.  SQUIRREL 

Now  naughty  Mr.  Squirrel, 
You  know  you're  not  afraid; 
You  know  I  would  not  hurt  you 
For  all  the  pennies  made. 

Don't  whisk  your  bushy  tail  so, 
And  run  away  and  hide 
Behind  the  pepper  tree  trunk, 
And  peep  around  the  side. 

Now,  come  and  get  the  peanut, 
I'll  hold  it  out  to  you. 
There,  see,  I  will  not  touch  you; 
Come  and  get  it,  do! 

Ah!    Naughty  Mr.  Squirrel, 
You'll  need  this  nut  some  day, 
When  all  the  girls  and  boys  are  gone 
To  grammar  school  away. 

There  now,  you  see,  I  told  you 
I  would  do  you  no  harm, 
Go  put  it  snug  and  safe  away 
Down  in  your  peanut  farm. 


FLY 

There  was  a  little  dog  named  Fly, 

He  was  just  about  so  high. 

He  ran  up  to  me 

And  bit  my  knee 

And  I  climbed  on  the  fence,  up  high. 

His  mistress  was  named  George  E., 

Her  age  was  just  about  three, 

When  I  cried  out 

George  E.   flew  about 

And  made  little  Fly  skiddee. 


EACH  MORN  ANEW 

Why  does  little  Curly  Head 
When  she  cuddles  down  in  bed, 
Drift  so  quickly  off  to  sleep? 
Does  she  have  a  tryst  to  keep 
With  some  fairy  in  the  dell 
Where  those  little  people  dwell? 

When  the  shadow  of  a  smile 
Drifts  across  her  lips  the  while, 
Is  she  in  a  fairy  boat 
On  the  sea  of  sleep  afloat? 
Or  does  some  tiny  elfin  dear 
Whisper  secrets  in  her  ear? 

Surely  she  has  been  somewhere 
In  a  world  that's  free  from  care; 
For  there  linger  in  her  eyes 
Sparkling  lights  from  moonlit  skies 
Bright  and  fresh  as  drops  of  dew 
When  she  wakes  each  morn  anew. 


DREAMLAND 

What  kind  of  a  chariot  will  you  ride  in  tonight? 
Bright  golden  yellow  or  one  pearly  white? 
Either  will  take  you  to  Dreamland  you  know, 
As  soon  as  you're  settled,  away  you  will  go. 

You  will  hear  the  sweet  music  of  Fairyland  there ; 

You  will  see  the  Queen  Fairy,  a  star  in  her  hair. 

Or  perhaps  you  will  drink  the  sweet  nectar  of  flowers, 

As  you  dance  with  the  fairies  through  moonlighted  hours. 

The  little  play  children  you  see  through  the  day 
Will  walk  and  talk  with  you,  light-hearted  and  gay; 
But  in  the  bright  morning  you  never  can  tell 
What  beautiful  things  in  the  night-time  befell. 


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